Hungry for Love: Lunch is the continuation of a romantic piece of erotica that balances coquettish writing with heart-wrenching vulnerability.
After breakfast in bed, Andy said goodbye with a kiss. I fell asleep with a smile, bathed in the sun, not a care in the world, southern comforts on my tongue. I woke to a text from Andy;
I had an amazing time with you. Ketchup and all 😛
We texted loosely back and forth for nearly a week. Nothing too personal, a game I knowingly played, always reminding myself not to come off too needy, too hungry. Even if I didn’t know what Andy was thinking, I still wanted to look good, like I had my shit together, my own life going on, but maybe I just looked like a fuckboy.
It’s not like I ghosted him. I’d hold back with the good mornings and good nights and limit myself to maybe a family friendly selfie or a snap of a tasty dish I concocted (he responded “boyfriend goals” to my Coq au vin). Maybe a little flirty text here and there, but neither of us dove into conversation.
I had the intention to ask him out again.
Second dates weren’t really in my vocabulary. Except once or twice before and each time I realized we didn’t share much in common besides the obvious physical attraction. We ended up in bed, not talking, and ultimately never to see each other again, except on a hookup app, willfully ignoring one another.
I hoped it’d be different this time around.
Andy – No Dumplings – Thursday 7:34PM
can you get out of work tomorrow?
What do you have in mind?
Coney Island. the two of us.
I’ll make it happen <3
I had the urge to send a dick pic in response, like giving him a glimpse of my body fresh out of the shower, the lens slightly fogged over, the light cool would make it all the more tempting to see me. Most of all, I wanted to stoke the fire, but he wasn’t like all the other guys who needed a reminder of chemistry. I didn’t want us to get together just for sex anyways, so I kept my chub in my pants.